The Hunt Is On
by Jazzola
Summary: After an encounter with Gene's mad brother in 2010, two modern-day DIs are thrown back into Gene's 1983 world as part of his team. But can they trust the brother of a murderer? Co-written by Jazzola and Kayla-Louise. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Author's note - After a conversation on MSN, me and Jazzola have decided to write an Ashes to Ashes story where we arrive in 1983 after having an accident in 2010, we are best friends and Detective Inspectors of the Metropolitan Police force, we are characters that join the CID team at Fenchurch East. Jazzola is Detective Inspector Jasmine Yates and I'm Detective Inspector Kayla-Louise Fisher.

Disclaimer - We don't own the rights to Ashes but if we did, and I'm sure Jazzola would agree, Alex and Gene would have been living happily ever after, anyway on with the story.

Jazzola's added author's note: Yes, I agree with Kayla-Louise on all of the above. May I add that we have been writing independently of each other- segments are by me, Jazzola, and some are by Kayla- and the whole story has been beta-read by my very good self. Any mistakes belong to me, so feel free to tell me about them. If we owned the rights to A2A, the Gene Genie would still be on our screens now.

Onward with the story! I hope you enjoy it :D

* * *

(Kayla-Louise as DI Kayla-Louise Fisher)

"Fisher!"

"Yes sir, what can I do for you?" I reply to DCI Trevor 'Dickhead' Jones, as he's affectionately nicknamed by us in the Force.

"Where's Yates?" DCI Jones enquires sharply, rolling his eyes as my best friend, DI Jasmine Yates, enters CID with a tray full of jam doughnuts. "What on earth do you think you are doing, Yates?"

"Going to get the rest of CID their daily intake of sugar, Guv," Jasmine replies, rolling her eyes and placing the doughnuts on my desk. "Come and get them, boys! Besides, sir, you told me to go."

I swear that Dickhead Jones has the worst memory this side of Timbuktu.

"That I did," Jones replies, abruptly remembering as he looks at both me and Jasmine. "Right, time to get organised around here. You two are out on patrol."

"WHAT?" This was supposed to be our lazy day at the station!

"Kayla, keep it down," Jasmine warns me, looking over at Jones. "Why, sir?"

"Well, it would stop the men staring at both your boobs for the day," Jones replies, staring at both myself and Jasmine before stalking over to his office and shutting the door in our faces. Jasmine clenches her fists. They have a little too much history, her and Jones.

"What bloody cheek!" I huff, glaring after our superior officer. "Come on Jaz, let's go our patrol, get out of here for a while. Your car or mine?"

"Yours, as I can't drive yet!" Jasmine groans, but the corner of her mouth twitches up. She's more than good enough to drive, but was refused her certificate for some reason.

"Oh bugger! I forgot about that. Remind me again why you can't drive?" I laugh, teasing her. I love the reason why she got refused- it's so typically Jasmine.

"I told the instructor that if he kept staring at my bloody chest, I would kill him," Jasmine replies swiftly, grabbing her coat and phone and walking out of the CID room. There are disadvantages to having a bra size befitting of Madonna. I follow her through the double doors, giggling my head off and waving at the boys as we go.

"Kay, what you are doing?" Jasmine enquires as I walk around the corridor rubbing my nose.

"I was waving goodbye to the boys…"

"Yes, James in particular," Jasmine interrupts, throwing back her head and laughing as I glare at her through my fingers. "Oh, scary, not!"

"Shut up! You're meant to be my best friend, not take the piss out of me!" I growl, elbowing her gently in the ribs as we go out.

"Aww, poor Kayla! Get a grip!"

We both know it's banter; neither of us are ever mean to each other for real.

"Charming, for that you can walk," I state, giving her a teasing smile as we walk out of the station and towards my blue BMW X1, my pride and joy. "Jaz, you coming or what?"

Jasmine smiles and runs up to me, hitting me on the arm as we reach the car together. I'm about to pull out of my space when she gasps, leaps from the car and run towards the station, reappearing two seconds later waving a radio in her hand. I slap my forehead, groaning to myself; we forgot the radio, not something to do when you're meant to be on patrol.

"We are such a pair of doofuses," Jasmine grins as we speed off.

We're barely ten minutes into the patrol when Jasmine's radio buzzes into action and I swerve to the kerb to listen in.

* * *

(Jazzola as DI Jasmine Yates)

"Alpha Lemur Zulu 135, hostage situation, down at the docks. DI Yates, I need you there, you're the only negotiator within miles."

I shudder slightly. We've all been nervous about the docks ever since DI Drake was killed there a couple of years ago. She's become something of a legend around here, after her full story came out, but I don't fancy going the same way. She left her daughter behind as well, her Molly- I have my Amber to worry about, ten years old and already far too headstrong for her mother.

"DI Yates to Alpha Lemur Zulu 135, received, making my way to the docks now. Over and out."

I plop the radio onto my lap and hold on for dear life as Kayla stomps on the accelerator, flicking the lights on for her since her hands are otherwise occupied.

The bright blue sky seems to mismatch the mood beneath it as a crowd of people cluster around a scruffy, thick-set man in a camel-coloured coat, a 1970's reject if there ever was one. I never knew the 70's but I know enough History to recognise the symbols of that era. I step forward, brandishing my trusty warrant card.

"Hello? I'm DI Jasmine Yates. Can you tell me your name, sir? I'm here to help you, we can take this at your own pace, I'm not here to hurt you or anything, I'm just trying to resolve the situation."

The man growls at me, jabbing the barrel of his gun further into the throat of the poor man he has hostage, who looks about to faint. He looks faintly familiar, and as I look closer I realise that he's an old friend of my ex's, Richard Birks.

"Sir? Can you tell me your name so that we can talk?"

The man leers at me.

"My name is Stuart Hunt, DI Yates. And I don't want to talk. I want- my- life- back," he sneers, jabbing the gun further in. Richard is taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself when he looks just about ready to pee himself, if he hasn't already. That might not be rainwater making that puddle they're standing in.

I call once again on my psychology training, the information I got from my degree at nowhere other than Cambridge University. It was hard getting a place with Amber in tow, but I managed it.

"Tell me why you feel the need to do this, Mr Hunt. This isn't the way out of anything, this'll just make things worse, and you don't need that."

Stuart cocks the gun. I hold my breath, thinking that I've failed, that Richard is about to die- but he simply brandishes it further and stares me straight in the eye, his own narrowing, a bright blue that reminds me more of Father Christmas than a nutter wielding a gun. I know there's not a lot of political correctness in there, but my upbringing wasn't very special either in that department.

"Are you going to bring my brother back?"

I let my breath out. Finally we're getting to the crux of this.

"Why, have you lost your brother, Mr Hunt? Did he die?"

Stuart nods wordlessly, pressing the gun further in. Richard lets out a whimper.

"He died, a long time ago. Back in the 50's- Coronation Day-"

I feel a presence by my side suddenly- Kayla has approached from the car, her warrant card in her hand, her hand brushing my arm. I'm still relatively new to hostage situations, and so I'm thankful for having her by my side. Stuart carries on, not looking at me, his eyes fixed somewhere in the far distance, maybe the picture of his brother's face in his mind.

"He was a copper, like you. In the Manchester force. And then he was killed. They never found his body until 2008. No closure for fifty-eight years, no knowing how he died, or where, or having a grave to mourn him over, for fifty-eight years, for about four times as long as he lived. He was nineteen, Jasmine. Nineteen, and he died, murdered by some bastard he was trying to collar."

Kayla murmurs something I don't catch, but I see what she's saying when I note that Armed Response are right behind Stuart, aiming for him, about to blow him out of existence.

"Mr Hunt. We can help you resolve this, we really can. At least you have closure now, you know what happened to him. Please. Just let the man go and we can help you, we really can-"

Stuart doesn't wait.

A flash. A gunshot.

I scream, ducking as Richard falls lifelessly, blood tumbling from a gun wound to his head as Stuart runs, dodging bullets from the Armed Response unit, twisting his body and firing at me and Kayla. Kayla grabs my arm, pulling me towards the car, but halfway there she yells, bringing her arm up to her shoulder, where I can see bright beads of blood forming already.

"Kay!" I scream, pulling her top away from her shoulder as the ambulance crew swarm to Richard and Armed Response chase Stuart, who is presumably out of ammo now. Kay brings her own hand away from the wound to reveal a graze and I almost faint with relief.

"Oh God, Kay…"

I lean back against the BMW and, unable to keep it in, bury my head in my hands and sob. Nothing can ready you for seeing someone you know murdered in front of you.

"Ssh," Kayla whispers, putting her hand on my shoulder, her dark hair brushing my skin as she opens the door of the BMW carefully and guides me in, handing me a compact and my make-up bag so I can salvage my mascara. I sniff and gladly take the proffered items, shifting over to allow Kayla access to the car as well. After all, she's the driver; I have a licence, but I don't use it a lot.

"It's OK, Jaz, you couldn't have done anything to prevent it. That Stuart nutter is too far gone, I bet he dabbles in drugs, he's practically a textbook case."

I sniff again, trying hard not to return to the station a snivelling wreck.

"Come on, let's get back, we have paperwork to write," Kayla sighs, putting the car into gear and giving me a goofy look. I giggle through my tears; Kayla always knows how to cheer me up, even after what I just saw.

* * *

(Jazzola as DI Jasmine Yates)

"What the hell happened back there?" DCI Jones yells at me as we walk in, his face an unattractive shade of peony and his eyes like a wild horse's. I want to turn and shelter behind Kayla, but that's not really a good thing to do in CID and so I keep walking and fix him with a professional, if glaring, stare.

"I did all I could, DCI Jones. There was only so much I could do without getting killed myself."

"You've failed that man, Yates, and he won't be the last!" Jones screams at me, his voice ringing in the silence that has fallen since our arrival back, before turning and stomping back to his office. Kayla and I stand in stunned silence before I break it by turning and running to the ladies', tears streaking down my cheeks, ignoring the calls from the other people in the foyer and Kayla's cries for me to come back.

I rush into the cubicle and bang the door shut, the TV in the foyer suddenly ringing in my ears as I hear the headline it's buzzing out, the widescreen's speakers eerily loud in my head:

"An armed man has killed a hostage he took at the docks earlier today. Despite police negotiator DI Jasmine Yates's efforts, Stuart Hunt killed a 24-year-old man, Richard Birks, who he was holding for an as of yet unknown reason. Hunt then evaded fire and the police search team looking for him. The general public is warned not to approach Hunt, who will kill indiscriminately."

I bury my head in my hands. How many people will die because I failed to reach Hunt?

"Jaz! Jaz, come out, it's me, Kayla. It's just me in here. You can come out… oh, what's that?"

I look up at the battered door as I hear the strong strains of "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel coming from my bag. Funny how some songs just seem to suspend your emotions because you know them and love them so well.

I whip out my mobile, the iPhone Amber insisted I got myself for Christmas, and answer.

* * *

(Kayla-Louise as DI Kayla-Louise Fisher)

"Mum?"

I can hear Jasmine talking inside the cubicle, her voice strained, the tinny sound from her phone's speaker travelling out of the plastic walls of the cubicles. Her daughter's light, sweet voice is unmistakeable; Amber calls me her auntie and we spend so much time together she and Megan are like sisters.

"Amber, shouldn't you be in school?"

"Mum, will you shut up for just one second, Jesus!" Amber replies loudly, a little waver finding its way into her voice. "We are in trouble…"

"Trouble? What have you and Megan done now?"

"Jaz, for goodness' sake, let me in the cubicle!" I beg, pounding the door. "Let me in!"

Jasmine opens the door and rolls her eyes at me as I stop my knock in mid air with my hand balled into a fist. "Amber, baby, what is going on?"

"Well… we decided to help the police by going and looking for ..."

The rest of the sentence is lost on me, but from the way Jasmine's face becomes gradually more and more shocked and incredulous and worried as she goes on I'm guessing it's not good.

"JESUS!" Jasmine screams sudden;y, grabbing the sink to stay upright, the colour visibly draining from her freckled face.

"What is it, Jaz?"

"We have got to go, Kay, now! Amber, where are you?"

"By the docks, near where that DI Alex Drake was shot," Amber replies tremulously, sounding like she's about to faint. "Mum, please hurry…"

Jasmine drags me out of the toilets, urgency written all over her face, her eyes watery but her mouth set in a tight line of resolve- and we bump into none other than DCI Jones, who is waiting outside for us (which on its own is bordering into creepy). I glare at him and Jasmine pulls me away from him.

"Where the hell do you think you are going?"

"Going to help our daughters," Jasmine replies. I still don't know the full extent of the situation, but I can tell from how the normally fairly laid-back Jasmine is acting that it's not good. "We have to go, it's urgent-"

"You're not going anywhere, you have duty here!"

"Our daughters are being held at gunpoint I think we have every bloody right to go, sir!" Jasmine yells, finally losing her cool and then yelping in shock as she remembers that I don't know that minor detail yet.

"WHAT?" I scream, staring at Jasmine, the reality of her words not sinking in at all. "Who has the girls?"

"Stuart Hunt," Jasmine replies calmly, wiping tears from her cheeks with a shaking hand as she starts walking towards the exit, dragging me with her. "Got to go now, bye."

"I told you already, you do not leave this building without my permission! I don't care if your brats are in trouble- should have kept your legs closed!"

Rage pelts through my head; a red-hot surge throws itself behind my eyes, scorching my head with his power.

Before Jasmine can do anything, I run full pelt at Jones and smash him to the floor, my fist singing as it makes contact with his skin. I hear his head smash into the hard cold floor and the crack of his nose as I punch him in his face, fury etched onto my face, Jasmine screaming beside me.

"Shit, Kay! Calm down!"

"No! Nobody says that about Megan or Amber, he don't know shit about what we went through!"

"I know, but beating the crap out of him won't help Megan or Amber, will it?"

"No, but it bloody felt good," I reply, wiping my hand on my jacket and walking out the station and towards my car, leaving Dickhead Jones slumped on the floor and nursing his bloody nose, whimpering, his eyes following us and probably, knowing His Pervy Highness, on our arses.

No sooner has Jasmine closed the passenger door, I slam my foot onto the accelerator and speed off across London. Jasmine's hand hovers over the button to press for the siren in the corner of my eye; I shake my head and she lets her hand rest on her lap, still shaking uncontrollably. I can tell she knows I'm holding back the tears; out of the two of us, by unanimous vote, I am the stronger one.

We arrive at the docks and instantly I pull out my gun and get out the car, Jasmine following suit.

We both make our way along the riverbank cautiously, eventually arriving at the point where the Lady Di used to be moored before DI Drake's death and the place we were told to come to. I almost scream, hearing Jasmine's muffled gasp behind me as we see Stuart holding onto Megan, the gun pressed into her temple and Amber on her knees just in front of Stuart, tears falling thick and fast from the light blue eyes that she inherited from Jasmine; seemingly, the eyes of the dead Hunt brother.

"Stuart Hunt, drop your weapon!" I demand, my gun pointed determinedly at Stuart. "Drop your weapon now and hand over the hostages."

"Now I have you trying to talk to me as well. DI Yates didn't help matters earlier- who says you can now?"

"Look, I don't care if injustice was caused to you fifty-eight years ago, get over it!" I yell, the red mist beginning to descend again. I know I get angry far too easily, but this guy is holding my kid and my best friend's kid prisoner, now is not the time for discipline.

"NO!" Stuart screams, jabbing the gun further into Megan's skin, his whole body taut and riled. "See here, DI Fisher, DI Yates- I have your precious daughters here and I can quite easily blast their little heads off while you watch, you got that?"

"Oh yeah, I got that, you fucking loon!"

"Kay, calm down, we need to keep him calm, not irritate him," Jasmine states, looking over at Megan and Amber and seeing fear in their little faces. "It's OK, girls. It'll all be OK, don't be worried, we can resolve this."

"Oh, listen to mummy dearest, the one that got an innocent man shot because she's a useless copper!" Stuart taunts, a grin sliding over his grey face as he sees me going up a notch on the rage scale.

"Right, listen here you- nobody talks to my friend like that! Not even drugged-up, living-in-the-past idiots like you!"

"You seem tense, DI Fisher- I wonder why that is?"

"You don't know anything about me!"

"Oh I do, I know about you and Jasmine! I knew the guys that you dated eleven years ago- how they took your innocence away at just sixteen…"

"I suggest you shut up right now, what is in the past stays in the past, but with you it's always in your mind's eye, because you have nothing better to do than scare innocent ten year old little girls!" I scream, not even taking a breath in between.

* * *

(Jazzola as DI Jasmine Yates)

"Little girls," Stuart sneers, his finger twitching on the trigger. Kayla makes to grab Megan, her maternal instincts coming through, and Amber yelps as Stuart grips Megan's hair tighter and pulls her towards the barrel of the gun, the harsh metal stick that killed Richard Birks and tarnished my name and conscience forever.

"Meg, stay still," I mouth to her, and although Megan looks petrified beyond anything I've ever seen before she nods and closes her eyes, maybe waiting to be rescued, maybe waiting for the bullet to blow her brains from her young skull, for her young and promising life to be pulverised in a second.

"Why are you doing this, Mr Hunt?" I say, stepping forwards. _Time to earn your respect back, DI Yates._

"I'm doing this because it's my God-given right to do this," Stuart hisses. He prods the gun further into Megan's head and Kayla tenses again, looking as though she would like to rip Stuart's head off with her bare hands.

"And you think this will bring your brother back?"

Stuart stops so abruptly he might have been shot.

"Gene? No, he's gone. Gene's gone, poor sod. Gone forever, gone somewhere I'll never find him. Why would I want him back? He'd just despair of me again. He was always better, always the one who bore the blows from life and Dad, the one who worked hard and played hard and lived life. And then it was ripped away from him and- you know what? I wish it was me who'd died."

His grip tightens on Megan's hair. Amber gasps.

"So the only thing that I can do to keep the little shreds of sanity my brother and the drugs left is to punish the world for taking him and leaving me here alone."

His face is a dark leer, spittle dripping from his lips, his eyes rabid and wild. No wonder Amber looks as though she would celebrate the earth opening up and swallowing the lot of us- minus Stuart, obviously.

I swallow hard, feeling my pulse begin to pound at my wrists.

"Say goodbye!"

"NO!"

Just as Stuart turns the gun on Megan, Kayla runs forwards, shielding Megan with her arms, shrieking, pulling her daughter away as Stuart aims, a manic grin now sliding across his face-

"KAY!"

"MUM!"

BANG.

And my best friend falls, blood seeping from her body, her eyes closed, like a falling angel in my blurred eyes, the image stinging my psyche as Kayla lies on the ground, bleeding- dying.

"YOU BASTARD!" I scream, all thoughts gone- I just want to kill him, maim him, rip the gun from his weed-stained fingers and fire it at him again and again, destroy him like he murdered my friend-

"MUM, NO!"

And then the gunshot is in my swimming ears and Amber's cries are fading, the sounds of sirens, and there is steadily nothing, just black, just… death…

_Amber… Kayla… Megan…_

_I'm sorry._

* * *

A/N: And there we go! I hope you liked it, and please drop us a review (I'll pass them on to Kayla as soon as they arrive). Thanks for reading! Jazzola :)


	2. Chapter 2

(Kayla-Louise as DS Kayla-Louise Fisher)

Pain… Confusion… Shock… These are all the things I feel as my eyes open and look over to see Jasmine lying on the floor a few feet away from me.

It is then that I remember I was shot.

_Jesus, what the hell has happened?_

"Jaz, you ok?" I ask, sitting up and wiping my forehead. "God, my chest is killing me…"

"Oh god, oh god!" Jasmine says repeatedly, looking around confused- good, glad someone else is. "Where are we? When are we?"

"We are beside the docks, and when we are I haven't got a clue," I reply, standing up and coughing as four people come running towards us. "Uhh- Jaz, get up…"

"Oh my God, are you two girls OK?" an eerily familiar woman asks, moving towards us, her brown hair curly and thick, her hand pulling me up before I can shrink away.

"Bugger me! I know you…you're, you're DI Alex Drake," I state, moving backwards and dragging Jasmine with me. "You're meant to be dead!"

"Kayla!" Jasmine groans, nudging me in the ribs. "Sorry about her, she's confused, but yes, you are meant to be dead, where we come from that is."

"Bolly, who do we have here?"

A man has come up behind her; his face is slightly in silhouette, but his eyes burn from the dark palette of his face, bright blue irises in a careworn background.

"I didn't get the names, Gene," Alex replies, rolling her eyes at me and Jasmine. "I presume you have names?"

"Well, yes," I reply, looking over at Gene; for some reason, he reminds me of someone I met once. "My name is Kayla-Louise Fisher."

Jasmine looks around at everybody there and says, in her quiet voice, "I'm Jasmine Yates, hi."

"Right, well, let's get the pleasantries over and done with now. DCI Gene Hunt," Gene states, holding out his hand for Jasmine to take, I step further away before tripping over the edge and falling into the River Thames, Jasmine following me to help. "Oh, and, once again, my reputation precedes me!"

"Gene, now is not the time, Ray, Chris, go on and help them," Alex states, practically pushing Ray and Chris towards us.

* * *

(Jazzola as DS Jasmine Yates)

What possessed Kayla to fall backwards into the River Thames, I will never know. Not wanting my best friend to drown just after being shot- what a day that would be- I also take the plunge into the river and grab her hand, aided by the other two men, grudgingly, and Gene, who keeps hold of Ray's arm as he ventures in and grabs Kayla by the hand and haul her out and onto the bank.

"Thanks," Kayla mutters, shuddering with the cold of the river water and standing, dripping like a wet dog, on the side of the river. I am also shivering, my hair plastered to my head, feeling strangely textured- normally it's straightened to within an inch of its life, but when I put a hand up to feel it, it seems to have gone back into its original waves.

"Kay… what's happened to my hair?"

The curly-haired man snorts with laughter at the sound of my voice.

"Typical bloody bird, all she cares about is 'er 'air."

I turn and glare at him, seeing him physically shrink back at the intensity of my gaze. I smirk at him and accept the blanket the mysteriously alive DI Drake is offering me, my fingers brushing hers accidentally, my nerves revelling in the fact that her fingers are warm, and soft, and a comfort on mine.

"I don't understand all this," I murmur to her as I start to dry my hair off, my hands shaking. There is a tiny, sharp pain in my chest, as though something had pierced the skin and just made its way below…

And then the strange world around me spins and I have to grab the lamp-post by my hand as my brain grows fuzzy, dizzy, splitting into tiny fragments shattered by a bullet…

"_We have a pulse, faint, but it's there."_

"_ETA 5 minutes, we're going to need blue lights for this one… Jasmine! Jasmine, can you hear me? Jasmine? Jasmine!"_

As soon as they came, the voices are gone. I open my eyes to find Kayla, Alex, Gene and the two men all staring at me. Kayla breaks the silence, grabbing my arm.

"Jasmine?"

I can't answer her. For about the first time in twenty-six years of life, I am speechless.

"She's in shock," Alex says firmly, putting her arm around me despite the fact that I'm still sopping wet. "I'll get her back to the station and get her some fresh clothes. Do you have the keys to your flat, Jasmine?"

(Kayla as DS Kayla Fisher)

"Well, that would be extremely difficult."

"How can it be difficult, bloody women!" Gene asks brusquely, taking a cigarette out and lighting it. "You're just as daft as Bolly here."

"Will you stop interfering with everything I bloody say?" I shout, folding my arms across my chest. "You're more a bloody woman than me at the moment!"

"Hear, hear," says a man standing just behind Gene, his arms also folded, a cigarette hanging from his lips. I narrow my eyes at him, taking an instant dislike to him.

"Who asked for your opinion, mop head?" I ask the frowning bushy haired man before looking over at the quiet blonde man. "You don't talk much, cat got your tongue?"

"No, I don't own a cat," the young man says, frowning at me.

"Christopher, it's a saying, you twonk!" Gene states, blowing foul-smelling smoke towards Chris, who flinches back slightly.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Jasmine snaps, irritated. "This won't help us get home to Amber and Megan, Kay."

"Where are we, though? When are we?" I ask, confused, looking over at Gene. "This is going to sound strange, but do you have a brother? Stuart Hunt?"

"I'm not answering that question," Gene mutters back, caught out slightly, shifting his stance. I'm not taking no for an answer and brace myself for an argument.

"Just answer the bloody question," I growl, shrugging the blanket from my shoulders. "It's because of your brother that Jasmine and I are here, wherever that may be."

"Look, if you speak to me like that again I'll kick you from here to Timbuk-bloody-tu so fast you won't know what's hit you," Gene snarls, moving forwards, using his slight height advantage to look down on me, his bright blue eyes slits. I am thrown back momentarily to Stuart, his drug-crazed irises the same shade of bright blue. But then Gene blows smoke in my face and I lose my rag.

"I know what will hit you if you don't answer my question in a minute, my bloody fist!" I yell, raising my hand before it is grabbed by Jaz.

"Calm down and let's just get to the station," Jaz suggests, placing the blanket back onto my shoulders just as I start, a shudder running through my whole body, and fall to the floor…

_"Come on Kayla, come on, keep fighting- you can do it, think of your daughter."_I open my eyes to find Alex and Jasmine holding me up in the sitting position, Jasmine's familiar and worried eyes gazing into mine, begging me to tell her more. She knows what happened, I can tell, but I'm in no fit state to be reliving what I just saw. I'm confused and I feel sick after what I've just witnessed; I just let the tears flow and crumble to the floor in a mess.

"What's the ETA?"

"Five minutes, but that won't be enough, she's been shot in the heart, I'm surprised that she's still alive now…"

"Her colleague has just been taken by Gary and Paul, not looking good for her either, they have both got kids, ten years old as well."

"Witnessed their mothers getting shot, didn't they?"

"Yeah, they are both in shock, poor things…"

* * *

(Jazzola as DS Jasmine Yates)

I know straight off what has happened to Kayla, having experienced it myself just a few minutes ago. DI Drake helps her into the gleaming red car a little way away; being a self-confessed car fanatic I recognise it straight away: an Audi Quattro, one of the earlier models, one of the cars I dreamed about owning as a teenager; zooming around with Amber in one seat and me in the driver's seat, the sun gleaming in Amber's auburn hair, the deep thrum of the engine throbbing in my ears.

Of course, I was dreaming of going along on a road that wasn't in 1983.

As we zoom off in this dream car, me in the front since I'm feeling a bit nauseous, I begin thinking over what's happened: Kayla and I have been shot, travelled back in time, met the- resurrected? Ghost? Imagined? Who knows- DI Drake, and the equally dead brother of the man who shot us, who is currently driving us along, at speeds that a normal pursuit driver would be reluctant to go to, in a bright red Quattro that rightly belongs on a poster on my bedroom wall in 1998 or so.

I wonder if the girls are alright and my heart feels like it's about to implode in my chest and cascade down into my feet and onto a soggy, lost pile in the footwell of the Quattro.

Amber's glowing blue eyes… Megan's curly brown hair, tumbling down her shoulders… Amber's young voice through my iPhone… Megan's trembling as her life was placed under threat…

I have to be snapped out of my daze as we arrive at the station, Gene's fingers clicking under my nose and Alex calling me from the kerb. Kayla looks worried as I step out, my eyes still far away, her eyes fixed on mine, seeing the vagueness in them, the wondering about a world that seems so far away.

In true Kayla style, while she's looking at me, she trips over the kerb and falls flat on her face.

"Kay!" I sigh, rushing forwards and hauling her up, Chris turning and greeting a dark-haired uniformed officer who has rushed out after seeing Kayla falling over and the curly-haired Neanderthal sniggering behind his cloud of cigarette smoke. Kayla gives him the middle finger, to a chorus of sarky "ooooo"s from the people clustered around us. For the first time I take in the 1980's clothing, the awful patterns and the outdated styles for the men and the strange, old-fashioned clothing for the women.

"You alright?" the dark-haired woman asks Kayla, who has gotten to her feet, shaking the water out from her drenched hair, which seems to have been permed. I'm not sure about it, but it looks good on her. Just as long as I don't have to follow suit. The slight waves of my hair aren't a stereotypical 80's style, but suit me and don't look out of place in the slightest. Kayla nods, and as we walk in I take a moment to check myself in the mirror.

The same slightly freckled, pale-skinned woman stares back at me as always, but with subtle changes, little differences. The slight waves in my hair that are there naturally but I didn't like, thinking they weren't professional-looking, are there, catching the light from the glass doors at the front. My eyes are framed by a thick surround of mascara and eyeliner, with metallic blue eyeshadow and pale pink lipstick accompanying them- far more make-up than I would normally wear, but it looks nice. My legs are on display, not in the fitted work trousers that I was wearing before, but in a black pencil skirt, cinched in around my waist, curved around my thighs before ending mid-calf. My feet stagger in high heels, higher than anything I'm used to, being a firm fan of ballerina shoes and pumps, mules when I'm slouching around at home. My top half is encased in a smooth, elegant blouse, pin-striped and a deep emerald in colour, a very 80's piece of clothing and untucked from the skirt due to me leaping gallantly after my best friend into the Thames just half an hour or so before. The clothes are generally dishevelled, but so different to my 2010 clothing that I can only stop and stare at my reflection, giving the rest of the people in the foyer either the impression that I haven't looked in a mirror ever before in my life or am exceptionally vain.

"Oi, Yates!"

I turn, snapped rudely from my daze- and find my nose inches from the untucked shirt and scrappily-tied tie of Gene Hunt.

"If you were listenin' instead o' starin' at your pretty little arse in the mirror, you'd realise that we're takin' your friend into CID, and you're invited along."

"Oh," I say quietly, taking a moment to step back from Gene's chest. I am still wary of him, since it was his bloody brother who shot us and sent us back in time, from the looks of things.

_Bleep, bleep… bleep, bleep…_

I whisk round, staring around the foyer for the source of the beeping in my ears. Gene gives me an odd look, several people in the area staring round at me as well.

"What the bloody 'ell… 'ave I got another fruitcake in my bloody office? Do I just attract nutters?"

I give him a frosty look and march past, into the office that is labelled "Fenchurch East CID", still wondering if that beep was from something in this world or the one I have just left.

My initial impression of the room is a giant chessboard. Black and white squares of carpet create a slightly Alice in Wonderland impression- I saw the film with Amber and Megan a month or so ago- and the concrete walls with pornographic posters and cars stapled and Blu-tacked on create the feel of a teenager's bedroom in some areas of the place. The small kitchenette, tucked away in one corner, filled with more posters and various bits of tea-making paraphernalia, is coloured in yellow pastel, the kind of thing that a council flat might have, accompanying shabby cupboards and an ancient kettle covered in limescale. Desks are arranged everywhere in the room, topped by files and typewriters, with the only computer in the room residing in the huge glass office lording over the place, the name on the door DCI GENE HUNT.

Stuart's words, from what seems like years ago already, echo in my head.

"_He was a copper, like you. In the Manchester force. And then he was killed. They never found his body until 2008. No closure for fifty-eight years, no knowing how he died, or where, or having a grave to mourn him over, for fifty-eight years, for about four times as long as he lived. He was nineteen, Jasmine. Nineteen, and he died, murdered by some bastard he was trying to collar."_

How could he be alive now?

_DI Drake's dead. DCI Hunt's dead._

_Does that mean… does that mean we're dead as well?_

_No, I have to get back. To Amber and Megan, and to 2010. To my life there. I have to!_

Pushing these thoughts out of my head, and wondering why they didn't take us straight back to our flat, I turn and start walking towards Kayla, who is being tended to by DI Drake.

* * *

(Kayla as DS Kayla Fisher)

"Alex, how long have you been here? When are we?" I ask, playing with my light blue blouse, a garment totally different to what I'm used to but OK.

"Worked here for two years, and the year is 1983," Alex replies, placing a hand on top of mine and squeezing gently.

"1983? Bugger! Jaz, it's 1983 and- what on Earth are you wearing? What's with your hair?"

"I gathered the year from the attire everyone is wearing," Jasmine replies, sitting on top of the desk beside Alex, seeming a little more at ease than me. That makes sense; Jaz was always the placid one. "Hey DI Drake- Kay, your hair is no better."

I feel my hair apprehensively- my normally straight black hair is curly and on my shoulders, not half way down my back as it should be. My blouse is light blue and I'm wearing a very figure revealing black skirt. I never wear skirts- I have to change out of this thing!

"Would Bolly, Madam Fruitcake and Mermaid follow me?" Gene asks, walking into his office and sitting in his chair.

"Hey, who you calling Mermaid?" I snap, standing up and almost falling down. Heels are not my specialty- give me flats any day.

"You were the one who decided to go for a swim in the River Thames! Now mush!" Gene replies, waving his arm for me to go into the office.

"If you wave at me one more bloody time, I'm going to knock you off your feet!" I growl, attempting to sit on the edge of the desk, missing and landing on the floor.

"For goodness' sake!" Jasmine groans, hauling me up. "I thought you drank river water, not any form of alcohol?"

"You know I don't drink," I reply, forgetting that Alex and Gene were sat there, listening to us interestedly. "Not since I got drunk on my eighteenth birthday and hugged that tree thinking it was you."

"Uhh… Kay…" Jasmine murmurs, pointing over my shoulder at Alex and Gene. "Thought you didn't want anyone but me knowing that?"

"Right, well, that was interesting Madame Tree Hugger," Gene states, looking over at Alex. "Right, you both look and smell like a wet dog, so Bolly here is going to take you home."

"I do not smell like a wet dog!" I protest, glaring at Gene Hunt- he certainly wasn't making me like him.

"Actually, Kay, we do," Jasmine replies, holding her hands up in defence, ever the peacemaker. "One question- we don't actually have a flat, we don't have anywhere, we just have the clothes we are wearing."

"Well that's not an issue, you can come to my flat to shower and I've got plenty of clothes you can both borrow," Alex replies, smiling at each of us and opening the door to the office.

"As long as they are not revealing, don't want to give the boys a heart attack or ideas," Gene replies, wiggling his eyebrows at Alex. "Besides, what you wear gives me the horn, Bolly."

"Jesus!" I gasp, gagging and shaking my head in disgust as I turn to leave. "Did not need to know that!"

"Kay, watch out for the…" Jasmine yells, a little too late, as I walk into the door frame and end up on the floor flat on my back. "You're not having a good day, are you?"

"You think?" I reply, dazed and confused. I can feel a headache coming on.

* * *

(Jazzola as DS Jasmine Yates)

Alex's flat is nice, obviously an ex bachelor pad but very womanised by its new owner. A very 80's sofa sits in the middle of the lounge, striped and straight-lined, with a retro-style TV in front of it and red and grey the main colours of the surrounding area. It looks like something from a nostalgia show, and so spotless it seems more like a showhome, and yet there are little lived-in marks on it: a huge mark on the wall just behind the TV, maybe from where the TV fell off the stand or something like that, shadows of muddy bootprints just inside the front door, the unmade bed. Alex hastily apologises for it and makes it up, telling us that they were on a shout this morning, bright and early.

"I have to leave at all times of the day, this time it was Gene radioing in to tell me that he had a drug baron in his sights just a couple of minutes away from my house. I have no idea how my DCI is still alive after all these years of being in the job, his negotiating skills meant that he had a gun pointed at his head when I got there."

Shaking her head, Alex points out the bathroom and directs me in there to sort out my still wet clothes and my sopping hair.

"There're some towels behind the shower curtain," Alex calls through to me as I lock the door. As she walks away, I hear Kayla saying something about the table in the lounge and Alex's puzzled reply of, "No, that's not from an antiques shop, I got it a few weeks ago…"

I turn and start looking around, my innate curiosity coming through once again.

The bathtub is decorated with little turtle mosaics, not very 1980 but worn smooth; I suspect they've been there a while. There are a couple of stains around the toilet, confirming my suspicion that this was once a bachelor's place, but the apparatus is clean; Alex is very house-proud from the looks of things.

Stripping off my wet stuff and putting it on the edge of the bath to dry, I step into the clothes Alex has left in there for me- a nautical striped shirt and a pair of slim-line jeans- and examine myself in the mirror. With a thrill of recognition I remember the pattern of the shirt I'm wearing, which accentuates my chest nicely, from H&M in 2010 London. Amber has one like it. I bury my nose in the cotton, breathing in the familiar scent of clean clothing, seeing the navy nautical stripes blur in my line of vision.

"Jasmine? You done in there?" Alex calls, knocking lightly on the door just as a tear snakes its way down my nose, dripping onto the material, marking a spot of dark blue. I call something back and slide through the door, wiping my eyes on some toilet paper which I hurriedly stuff into my trouser pocket. Alex's eyes immediately find the spot on my shirt but slide back to my face as soon as they have seen it, and she says nothing.

Kayla goes through into the bathroom, making a sound of approval as she sees the jeans that Alex has given her to wear. Kayla hates skirts with a passion.

"So," Alex says, settling herself down on the sofa next to me, giving me a smile which I return. "What were you and Kayla doing down by the river, lying on the ground and spouting about another world?"

"Er… I…"

I stall, wondering what the hell I can say without sounding like I actually escaped from the mental asylum and they found me just before I fancied a swim.

"Well…"

Alex waits patiently, her arm resting on the table next to the sofa. I remember someone saying that she always did that back at the station and wonder what the hell is going on for the millionth time.

"Um… we were undercover…"

My vivid imagination- I think I passed it on to Amber, she was forever claiming something, from the bogey man to Elvis Presley of all people, was under her bed- begins conjuring up a believable story. I raise my voice a little so that Kayla can hear me in the bathroom, and hope she's taking it in as I speak.

"We were investigating some drug dealers who picked those spots, and we'd been there overnight. We figured that if we lay down and looked like we were druggies, hence the slightly less than professional look when you found us, they'd come along. They didn't, and we fell asleep after a while. We've been up for forty-eight hours, and when you've been going undercover for weeks, sleeping anywhere becomes second nature."

Alex listens patiently, her eyes fixed on mine, understanding in their brown-flecked depths. Kayla hums quietly from the bathroom.

_Shit! Kayla's humming Deeper Shade of Blue- how the hell am I supposed to explain to Alex that Kay's humming a song that hasn't been bloody sung yet, let alone released?_

Alex glances towards the bathroom, but I presume that she just decides it's by a band she doesn't know.

"Why haven't you got a flat?"

"Oh, we were flat-sharing, but then we got an infestation of cockroaches and gave the flat up," I improvise wildly. "We're in the process of getting a new one, but at the moment we're staying in hotels, we haven't got anywhere to really live."

Alex raises her eyebrows.

"That's no good. Tell you what, I'll call Gene, he has a couple of spare bedrooms he can lend you for tonight, and I'll get some spare bedding from Luigi downstairs, he's my landlord so he should have some for me."

She stands up and pads over to the phone, turning round and laughing when she sees my shocked expression.

"Oh, Gene's not the lion he seems all the time. He'll put you up for tonight gladly- well, he might complain a little but it's not serious. Under it all, he just wants to try and help."

She dials a number and waits, frowning as someone, presumably not Gene, says something from the other end.

"OK, thanks," she says, replacing the phone just as Kayla comes out, a small smile on her face as she strides over to me and does a little twirl.

"What do you think?"

"Very stylish," I giggle, standing up as Alex beckons to us, holding out the dried-out high heels we came in wearing. I take mine and slide them on, contemplating snapping the heels off but deciding that it would look a bit weird and just resolving to buy some pumps ASAP.

"Gene's down in Luigi's, I'll go and find him. Hopefully he'll be sober," Alex explains, opening the door and going through, descending carefully down the steps and going down into the street outside, down more steps, and into a trattoria.

* * *

(Kayla as DS Kayla Fisher)

"There is no way I'm staying with Gene bloody Hunt!" I protest, storming into the trattoria. My feet fly off the floor due to the hateful heels and I find myself skidding and sliding across the floor.

"Help!"

As I skid across the trattoria I bang into someone, screaming and yelling, and land in a pile on the tiled floor. As we come to a halt, I look up to find, of all people, Ray bloody Carling.

"You know, if you wanted a bit of the Carling, love, you just had to ask," Ray says, wiggling his eyebrows.

THWACK!

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" Ray yelps, staring at me as the whole trattoria bursts out laughing.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" I reply, pushing Ray off me. "Move, lard arse!

"Who're you calling lard arse? Your arse looks like a back end of a bus!" Ray replies, smirking at his attempted effort of hurting my feelings and failing.

THWACK!

"Stop bloody hitting me," Ray shouts, rubbing his cheek. "Crazy, an absolute nutter- where did you escape from?"

THWACK!

"Raymondo, stop it before you're beaten to a pulp," Gene suggests, winking at me. C_heeky sod_. "Now, Lady Bollinger Knickers here tells me that you and the lovely Yates here needs a place to stay, am I right?"

_No! _"Yes, we do," I reply, glaring at Jasmine, who is laughing so hard she's holding onto the bar to prevent herself from falling on the floor. "Hey, stop laughing!"

"Oh... my…God!" Jasmine says, gasping for air. "That was so funny, you hit him three times and still he tried to insult you, classic, that's my Kayla, takes no crap from anyone…"

She curls up from laughter, tears running down her face, completely unable to speak. Gene and Ray exchange bemused looks.

"Right, now that I know I have a DS that can look after herself, I'm leaving, so let's fire up the Quattro," Gene states, leaving Luigi's, his black coat flowing behind him.

As we leave, Alex waves goodbye and smiles from the window of the trattoria; we both smile back and follow Gene to the car, where he's stood beside the gleaming Quattro, rolling a cigarette in his glove clad hands, looking annoyed at me and Jasmine dawdling.

"Will you two get a bloody move on, I would like to get home some time this week!"

"OK, give us a second, not used to walking in heels," I reply calmly. For once in my life I just want to lie down and sleep, dream of my little girl and sort-of niece. "How long will it take to get to your house?"

"Five minutes, the Gene Genie waits for no man or woman," Gene replies, looking at the both of us. "Except you two, obviously."

_Well,_ I think as we roar along, breaking the speed limit into little pieces and almost hitting several different objects, _Gene wasn't wrong about not waiting for no man._ My knuckles are white from clutching the back of Jaz's seat so hard I think I've ripped a hole in the seat, but I think it's best not tell him that and I feel sick; I look over to Jasmine and find her biting her lip, white-faced and scared. I gently nudge her arm and she looks at me, her eyes in a far distant place; I recognise the distraction technique, she uses it a lot when she's annoyed or scared.

"Never again, Kay, please…" Jasmine begs, unsteadily getting out of the Quattro and balancing on the garden fence. "I feel sick…"

"Right, you two, get inside, my neighbours already think I'm on the game," Gene explains, looking at Jasmine. "Yates, you OK?"

"Your driving kind of scared the shit out of us," I explain, helping Jasmine up the garden path, various plants and flowers springing out to greet us. "You have a garden?" I ask, surprised. Gene Hunt didn't seem a garden kind of person to me.

"Yes, why do you ask?" Gene asks, opening the door and allowing us in. "This is my house, bathroom is down the hall and I'll fetch some clean bedding, the couch fits two people, excuse me."

"Thanks," I reply, turning around and finding Jasmine bouncing up and down on the sofa. "Hey, don't do that!" I laugh, glad to see my Jasmine back. She grins up at me, her familiar smile so good to see.

"It's fun!" Jasmine replies giddily, the colour back in her cheeks. "So bouncy, come on Kay, try it!"

"OK just a quick bounce," I reply sitting beside Jasmine and bouncing up and down, feeling like a three-year-old on her first bed.

A cough from the doorway stops us in mid bounce, and we turn to see Gene standing there, his arms crossed but amusement in the bright blue eyes. "We were just testing it out… sorry."

"Well, if I want anything testing for its bounciness I know I can ask my two DSs," Gene replies, hiding a smirk. "Goodnight, here's your bedding, see you in the morning."

"Thanks," we both reply, still giggling madly, laughing out loud as we hear Gene going up the stairs, muttering, "Bloody women."

* * *

A/N: We hope you like it; please PLEASE review or Kayla will come and kick your butt. She isn't kidding. And I will lend her my Doc Martens to do it in. XD Seriously, please review, and we both say thanks to those who have! Keep tuned! Jazzola :) and Kayla-Louise


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